Neophyte
by Ms. Avi
Summary: Why did Sirius send Snape to the Whomping Willow? Here's one idea.SnapeRegulus. Rating for strong language and very mature content. Please do not read if you don't enjoy either one of those things.
1. Prologue

He never told me why he wanted the extra lessons; he didn't really need them. Perhaps Potions was not his favorite subject, but he was proficient enough to pass all of his exams with top marks. When I could no longer tolerate the nagging suspicion that I was being used for some ulterior purpose, I asked him. He gave me the oddest look then. Something between surprise and satisfaction.

"Out of everyone at Hogwarts, you are the best at Potions," he said softly, lids lowering over his dark eyes. "And I want to learn from the best."

Somehow, the flattery left me cold.

"I think you're forgetting someone."

He snorted dismissively.

"I'm not interested it that filthy little Mudblood. Slughorn favors her because she's got a smart mouth and a nice set of tits. Bloody traitor, he is. When the one who _should_ be his favorite is in his own fucking House."

I couldn't hide the satisfaction I took in those words. How many times had I said the very same things to myself? And he could recognize it, despite being a year younger. But still…

"You are skilled enough without my help."

He stared at me with that same odd look for several long minutes of silence. He seemed to be trying to make a decision. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strange.

"Do you know what it's like to be a Black?"

A rhetorical question. I waited, my suspicion rising again.

"We're expected to act a certain way. Get top marks. Be the best at everything. Marry the right girl."

He was watching me now with an intensity that made me wary of the point he was trying to make. I was suddenly very aware of how close we were standing to each other. I had to fight the impulse to back away from him.

"I've tried to be the son my parents expect me to be. Live up to the family name and all that rot. Oh, I'm not complaining. I know what it means to be a Black. I think I'm pretty good at it, actually."

The smile creeping over his face literally made my skin crawl. _Menacing_, that could be the only word for it. How absurd would it be to draw my wand on him? The hell with that, how absurd was it that a fourth year could make me this nervous? I forced myself to stand my ground as he leaned in to whisper.

"There's only one problem."

When his mouth landed over mine, my first instinct was to strike out at him. But his hands were gripping my shoulders, pulling me toward him, and I was too shocked to resist at first. But then his mouth opened and he pulled me closer still. A panic so fierce and overwhelming took hold of me that I wrenched myself away from him. He was giving me the same smirk that made the girls giggle and squeak like idiots in the Great Hall. He advanced on me, and I no longer thought it absurd to go for my wand. But his hand closed over my wrist before I could reach it.

"Being a Black definitely has its advantages," he whispered next to my ear. His warm breath moved through my hair. "We tend to get what we want."

"I don't—I'm not—"

I hated myself for stammering. He looked up into my eyes, still smirking and still menacing.

"That doesn't really matter, does it?" he asked so softly that I could barely hear it, even at our negligible distance. And then his free hand cupped over me through my trousers. I inhaled sharply, staring at him, aghast. His smirk was almost cruel as he began to rub, firmly and deliberately. _Merlin_. _No one had ever_…

I had never been as horrified in my life as I was when that first moan escaped my lips. Before I could react, he had slipped his hand inside my trousers and took hold of me in the flesh, stroking and rubbing with a disturbing expertise. His mouth was at my neck, nipping at the bare skin just above my collar. Vaguely, I thought again of my wand, but the hand that was not working on me still had the wrist of my wand hand in a tight grip. He pressed himself against me, and I could feel him through his own trousers. Clearly, he was getting off on what he was doing to me. But by then, I didn't much care. _It felt so fucking good_. Another moan slipped from my mouth, and he leaned up to kiss me again.

With my eyes closed, it was easy to pretend; to think of it in the abstract. I parted my lips when he did, and I let him push his tongue into my mouth as he wished. I had never kissed anyone in my life. From the way his mouth pulled at my lips, I was sure that _he_ certainly had. Who knows how long we could've carried on like that? Who knows how far I would've gone? I lost the chance to find out when a loud gasp echoed from the door to the student's lab.

_Fuck_.

The color was rising so fast on Sirius Black's face that he'd gone from white to beet red in less than five seconds. His eyes were popping out of his head and his mouth was hanging open. If I hadn't been in such a compromising position, it would've been a priceless thing to see him gaping like the idiot he is. As it was, we broke apart as if we were opposite ends of a magnet. I finally did draw my wand. The idiot didn't seem to notice, still balking at us from the doorway.

"What…the…FUCK…is going…on!" he demanded, with every bit of his usual eloquence. I was still trying to calm my breathing and didn't trust myself to answer just yet.

"Sirius?"

The tone of his voice struck me like a punch to the gut. I whipped around to look at him. He was staring at the idiot with a puzzled, confused expression.

"Regulus," said the idiot, "What the _hell_ are you doing!"

My Potions neophyte glanced around the room, spared me a long, uncertain look, and then turned his head back to his idiot brother.

"I—I don't know. Aren't we having a Potions lesson, Snape?" he asked me, the very picture of bewildered innocence. I felt ill enough to vomit. I looked over at the idiot, and sure enough, his expression was so outraged that I could almost see the smoke pouring from his ears. It was a good thing I'd already drawn my wand because the idiot immediately went for his.

"You...you—!" he spat, not finding a curse word strong enough for whatever I was. I refused to waste my breath trying to explain the situation to an idiot who wouldn't believe me anyway.

"If you want to explain how it all started when we're caught dueling, be my guest, Black," I muttered, trying my best to sneer. To my amazement, the idiot considered my statement. He started shuffling backwards, moving away from the lab. He kept his wand trained on me, but then, I was happy to do likewise.

"You're going to pay for this, you disgusting piece of garbage. If it's the last thing I do, I swear…I'm going to make you pay."

His footsteps echoed in the hall as he ran for the staircase out of the dungeons. I listened to them to make sure he'd really gone, and then I turned my wand on his double-crossing little brother. To my fury, he was smirking at me once again, apparently unconcerned.

"Sorry about that," he said without a trace of apology in his voice. "We live in the same house, you know. I do still have to go home for holidays and such. Had to be done."

Swallowing my desire to try out a few experimental curses on him, I lowered my wand and stuffed it back in the pocket of my robes. I started gathering up my books and equipment, trying not to let him see how badly my hands were shaking.

"You can forget about Potions tutoring," I spat savagely. I tensed when I felt him come up behind me.

"Oh, I don't think so," he said softly. "I told you. Blacks tend to get what they want."

And with that, he picked up his bag and walked out of the lab without so much as a glance in my direction. My only dilemma was in trying to decide which Black I'd prefer to satisfy.


	2. Chapter 1

It was almost a relief when my N.E.W.T.s started, because it meant that I'd soon be getting away from him. There had never been more than a few stolen moments in broom closets, surreptitious groping in the empty Common Room, frenzied sucking in the student's lab. I found reasons to avoid him when I could and he would make me pay for them the next time he managed to corner me.

I should have just gone to Dumbledore that very first time. The headmaster was always discrete, whatever else he might be. But the thought of trying to relate what had happened, wondering if he'd even believe me…it was more than I could bear.

I knew that I was in some serious trouble the second time it happened and it felt as good as the first time. Better. Where the hell had he learned to do that? I never asked, and I suppose I wouldn't have wanted to know anyway. And then his arrogant berk of a brother tried to make good on his threat. When Dumbledore didn't so much as publicly reprimand the murderous piece of shit, I wouldn't have gone to him for all the Galleons in Gringotts.

So I dealt with it on my own for two years. Eventually, it got bad enough that the mere sound of his voice would start to make me go hard. I had to leave the Great Hall hungry more than once. The worst part was that he knew. He knew why I left and why I'd go to bed well before curfew. He knew I had no one to tell, even if I'd wanted to. I guess that's why he chose me to begin with. I might have been a year older, but every other advantage was very much his and he knew that too.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who knew. I couldn't decide exactly which of his friends Black had told, but I was sure of Potter, at least. His hatred for me—entirely mutual, to be sure—seemed to double overnight. From our fifth year on, he went above and beyond to make my life a living hell.

All in all, I was looking forward to leaving Hogwarts behind me forever. Regulus wasn't going to let me leave, however, without a few parting words. He'd shown an uncharacteristic mercy in leaving me alone for the week of exams. But the day after I'd taken my last N.E.W.T., he visited me in my own dormitory. The rare occasions on which he did this were the only times I ever wished I weren't a Slytherin.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, my customary greeting for him.

"Relax," he drawled in that voice that made me want to do anything but. He sauntered toward my bed and I prayed to whatever deity might listen that he not decide to sit.

"What do you want?"

"Quite a lot, actually," he said, smirking. "But at the moment, all I want is a word with you."

"Later," I muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"Mother always disapproved of procrastination."

I couldn't risk pushing him any further. In spite of the fact that he was the one who'd have to live with whatever the repercussions might be for another year at Hogwarts, I always had the sense that I had far more to lose than he did if our secret was ever discovered. I tossed the book I'd been reading on my bed and stood, gritting my teeth. I followed him through the Common Room, out into the hall, and into his favorite broom closet. The one that was so small, it kept me easily within his reach. As soon as the door closed behind us, he wasted no time in taking advantage of the close quarters.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, trying to angle myself away from him.

"I just want to show you how much I'll miss you," he said, grinding himself against me. He reached around to grip my arse to give himself better leverage. I granted him the shuddering groan he'd been after, utterlydespising myself for it just the same. "And I wanted to remind you," he added, not bothering to hide the smugness on his face, "that I'm the jealous type."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. The implications were fundamentally ridiculous, in more than one way. He flashed me an indulgent grin and continued to crush our groins together.

"Just keep this time next year free on your calendar. You'll be entertaining a guest."

"Surely you'll have some other victim by then."

"I'm sure I will," he agreed readily. "But will they measure up to you? In any way?" He moved one hand from my arse to take hold of me, straining as I was against my trousers. "Somehow I doubt it."

How well I knew that tone of voice. It simultaneously filled me with paralyzing dread and eager anticipation.

"We'll be due for dinner shortly," I whispered fiercely. He was busy unbuttoning my trousers and didn't answer.

"Stop," I hissed, my throat tensing unpleasantly. "We'll be found."

"Just a little going-away present."

And then, faster than I would've thought possible, he jerked my trousers and underclothes down just far enough to expose me to the room.

"Don't," I gasped angrily, trying in vain to back away.

But the moment his mouth descended on me, all thoughts of resistance dissolved in an instant. I ground my teeth together until my jaw was nearly screaming in protest. My back was against the wooden shelves that held the cleaning supplies, and the fumes of Scower's Magical Mess Remover wafted into my flaring nostrils as my chest began to heave. I flung out my arms and gripped the shelf at shoulder-height behind me, digging my fingers into the wood. I refused to look down. If I had to allow him this, if my body must be subjected to this blissful horror, I could at least pretend that it wasn't him that brought me so effortlessly to climax. I could imagine someone else there, swallowing me whole. Anyone else.

When it was done, he rose from the floor. I didn't have to look at him to feel the smug, knowing expression he wore.

"Until we meet again, Severus," he whispered, trailing a hand through my hair. I turned my face away from him, nodding once in silence. Just let him leave. He obliged, peeking cautiously into the corridor and slinking out of the closet in the direction of the Great Hall. I closed the door behind him, stuffing myself back inside my trousers and furiously ordering the burning sensation behind my eyes to _go away_. A few deep breaths and soon I was back in the Slytherin Common Room. I hunched my shoulders against the indifferent glances from the few other stragglers who were late for dinner and strode into the bathrooms as quickly as I dared. I spent an hour in the shower. I went to bed hungry. I dreamt of the closet. But in my dream, it was my mouth on him as he groaned with pleasure.


	3. Chapter 2

It was less than two months after I'd finally left Hogwarts for good when Lucius Malfoy knocked on the door to my rooms in Knockturn Alley. I'd been expecting him sooner or later. I accepted immediately when he invited me to meet his Master. There really wasn't anything left to consider. I had already made up my mind while I was still at school.

Meeting the Dark Lord for the first time was both terrifying and enlightening. If one knew nothing else about him, one would know his mastery of the Dark Arts simply by standing in his presence. The power that flowed from his being was stronger than anything I had ever felt before, with perhaps one exception. I answered his questions and did not resist when I felt the pressure of his mind against my own. I had nothing to hide from him. And when he offered me the Dark Mark, I rolled up my sleeve and took it willingly. It was the path to my own mastery of the Dark Arts. It was the symbol of my own future power. It was what I wanted.

Or so I thought at the time. It slowly became obvious that the path I had chosen was leading me in a different direction than the one I'd been expecting to follow. There was less pursuit of the Dark Arts than I'd hoped, and the discoveries I did make were due solely to my own initiative. The others were content to revel in the damage they could do and the pain they could inflict. I found their delight in such endeavours deeply vulgar. Had they no self-control at all? Surely the Dark Lord couldn't approve of such disgusting displays of depravity? But secretly, in the darkest and most hidden corners of my mind, I was beginning to have doubts about my new Master as well.

That was the state of mind in which Regulus found me when he knocked on my door in late June. I'd nearly forgotten his year-old threat to search me out. When I opened the door and saw him standing in the dingy hall, smirking at my stunned expression, it came rushing back in a virtual flood of memory. He strode into the room before I could bar his way and looked around with his nose wrinkled in disdain.

"Best you could do, I suppose," he said, shrugging faintly and his smirk broadened. Even as he began to remove his cloak, I snarled at him,

"Leave. Now." He actually had the nerve to chuckle, laying his cloak on the chest of drawers opposite the door.

"Now, Severus. That's hardly any way to speak to a guest."

"I would agree," I said, pulling the door wider for him, "which might indicate to you that you are _not_ a guest. You are an unwelcome intruder. And I invite you to leave while you still may do so under your own power."

His eyes narrowed, although the smirk never left his face.

"A threat? Has so much changed in one year that now you think you can threaten me," his voice lowered to a menacing whisper, "and get away with it?"

That goddamned voice! I slammed the door shut, abruptly and loudly. But it was seeing the look on my face that finally wiped that beautiful, self-righteous smirk from his.

"Actually," I said, advancing on him slowly, "quite a lot has changed in the past year. I've taken employment at Slug & Jiggers. The pay is unremarkable, but it affords me these rooms, among other things. I've continued my studies of the Dark Arts. I'm becoming more and more convinced that Dumbledore should be tried before the Wizengamot for professional negligence. My knowledge is nowhere near the level of a master such as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, although…" I leaned in close to him, my lips curling, "that is as it should be between a master and his disciple."

"You?" he murmured. The shock on his face, as if he were amazed that I could've managed such a thing, only added fuel to my anger.

"Yes, me," I sneered. He'd grown taller since I'd last seen him; we were nearly the same height now. I couldn't loom over him the way I might've been able to at Hogwarts, so I resorted to the other means of intimidation at my disposal. I lowered my face even closer to his, fixed his soft grey eyes with a penetrating stare and allowed all of my malevolence and contempt to pour out into the very small space between us.

"So you see," I whispered, sneering again as I felt him shudder, "it would be very unwise of you to continue to provoke me. I've never made threats idly. But I assure you, when I make them now, I most certainly _can_ get away with it."

His eyes were wide and his lips were still slightly parted in surprise. I wasn't entirely sure what his reaction might be. Perhaps he'd run. Perhaps he'd make a few stammering apologies and back out of the door. For half a moment, I wondered if he might draw his wand on me. Instead, his eyes dropped to my torso and he muttered softly,

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me," he repeated, reaching out his right hand to touch the left sleeve of my shirt.

I backed away from him as if he were fatally contagious. His surprise hadn't melted into fear as it should have, as I'd intended it to. His expression was one of avid interest and a hungry, disturbing awe.

"Get out!" I snarled again, the old feelings of alarm and a strong, perverse desire uncoiling from a knot behind my breastbone and dropping down to writhe in the pit of my stomach.

"I know what's there. I just want to see it, Severus," he said, reaching out for me again. I swatted at his hand and when he kept coming, I struck out at his face. He ducked artfully away from the blow, dipping under my outstretched right arm and grabbing onto my left. Before I could level another strike at his head, he'd taken hold of my sleeve and with a mighty yank, ripped it away from the shoulder at the seam.

Infuriated, I stepped back, pulled my wand from my pocket and took aim. He stood frozen in place with the torn sleeve hanging from his right hand. He watched my wand without a trace of concern, wearing a small, triumphant smile on his lips.

"You're being ridiculous," he said quietly in that bloody fucking voice.

"Am I," I snapped, angling my left side away from his line of sight.

"Completely," he said, carelessly tossing the torn sleeve on the floor. "I fully intend to have one just like it on my own arm. I simply want to see what it'll look like."

"Yet you seem to know so much about it already," I sneered, my wand still pointed directly at his throat.

"I know as much as you did before you left Hogwarts. Perhaps a bit more. Wouldn't you be curiousif you werein my place?"

My jaw clenched almost involuntarily. "My curiosity wouldn't have led me to rip the sleeve from your shirt."

His devilish grin would've melted the knees of any teenage girl unlucky enough to have seen it. "Sorry about that. I got a little carried away."

When I snorted derisively, he seemed to take my amusement as permission to move. I jabbed my wand in his direction and he stopped, eyeing me with barely restrained exasperation.

"Let's see…allow an old schoolmate one small, inconsequential favor or go through the hassle of disposing of his body after you've cursed him into oblivion."

"Don't tempt me."

"Did I mention that you're being ridiculous?"

"An opinion to be taken with a large grain of salt, considering the source."

At that, he threw back his head and laughed.

"Fuck, I missed you," he said through his mirth, moving toward me again. He ignored the warning jab from my wand and came to stand directly before me. _Hex him_, my mind screamed, _jinx the little prick! _But something stayed my wand as he reached up, took my face in his hands and pulled me into a deep kiss. He pressed himself against me and it felt every bit as good as it had at Hogwarts. It had been so long…and without being conscious of it, my wand fell from my hand and I returned his kiss. He slowly drew his hands from my face, smoothing them down my neck and over my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and reached down to grip my arse. He pulled me hard against his pelvis and I groaned into his mouth.

It was so strange. Had the same thing happened while we were still at school, I would've given anything to make it stop. But standing there in my shabby little rooms in Knockturn Alley with my arms entwined with his and our mouths locked together, the feelings of panic and loathing—for both him and myself—weren't as strong. I was able to enjoy it. I don't know why. Perhaps it really had been _too_ long. But when I felt his hands fumbling at the buttons on my shirt, I reached up to help him.

He broke off the kiss, looking up at me with another hint of surprise glittering behind his smoky eyes. I stared into them, silently daring him to say anything. But he only smirked, working the bottom buttons loose as I undid the top. I pulled my right arm from the shirt and let it fall to the floor as he lifted his jumper over his head and tossed it away.

I had seen him unclothed before, at Hogwarts. I had learned the useful skill of fitting a full shower into less than two minutes due to the sadistic pleasure he took in following me around in the Slytherin bathrooms, stark naked. He'd pretend to talk to me about our potions lessons, the latest Quidditch match…sometimes he even resorted to remarking on the weather, just so he could then watch me hurriedly rinse the lather from my skin and make a desperate dash for my towel before anyone should happen to notice the effect his voice had on me. How I had _hated_ him.

And yet there he was, bare from the waist up and I stood transfixed at the sight. He smirked again, something else about him that I had always detested and which now made my fingers twitch in anticipation. He reached out with one of his own forefingers and ran it along the outside of my left arm. I drew away from the touch, hissing in instinctual self-preservation.

"Severus," he murmured, a faint, plaintive note of supplication in his voice. "Let me see it."

He strode purposefully toward me, grasping my left wrist and pulling it up and out until my Mark was in plain sight. Half-heartedly, I tried to wrest my arm from his grip. But he clasped my forearm with both of his hands and raised it closer to his face. He stared at my Mark, still dark against my pale skin from the last summons. After what seemed like half an eternity to me, he slowly bent down and kissed it just where the serpent emerged from the open mouth of the skull. I hissed again, trying to wrench away from him more forcefully. He refused to let go of me, reaching up with his left hand to take hold of my neck and pull me into another searing kiss.

He drove his tongue into my mouth and sucked at my lips, bringing both hands up to the sides of my face. The kiss was voracious, and my body responded with a desperate hunger of its own. He ground his pelvis against me and growling in frustration, I reached down and held his hips, thrusting against him as he sucked firmly on my lower lip. With a soft bite, he released my lip and broke the kiss. He looked up at me, panting slightly. His eyes burned with unmistakable lust. And in that brief moment, I wanted him more than almost anything else in the world.

"Fuck me, Severus," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "I want to be fucked by a Death Eater."

There was no more resistance, from either one of us, after that. All of my frustration, my hatred of him, my desire for him; it all came rushing out in a torrent of crushing prurience that threatened to burst my heart inside my chest if I did not satisfy my need. He was quick to teach me the finer points of homoeroticism with which I was unfamiliar, and I used his lessons to thank him many times over that night. Coming inside of him felt like no other pleasure I had ever known, made twice as sweet by his deep, satisfied moans. When I had finally exhausted myself, I collapsed next to him on the bed, breathing heavily but feeling deliciously satiated. I looked over to find him smirking at me yet again.

"What?"

"You're smiling," he said, a rakish grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Am I," I muttered, unconcerned.

"It doesn't suit you," he quipped, failing to suppress a soft snort of laughter. I frowned at the gibe.

"Ah, there you are. That's better," he said, laughing again. He threw an arm across my chest and slid one of his legs between mine. To my remembrance, I had never slept in the same bed with another human being in my life. So it was some surprise to me the next morning when I found him still draped around me and enjoying the same peaceful, comforting sleep from which I had just awoken.


	4. Chapter 3

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"What?"

"You're staring. I don't like it."

He slid to the other side of the bed and rose, casting a deep frown at me from over his shoulder as he walked to the bathroom. I didn't even attempt to deny his accusation. I _had_ been staring. I had gone to bed with my schoolyard tormentor and woken to find…someone else. The garish morning sunshine that filtered into the bedroom through the thin window dressing had granted me a disturbing realization, something I had missed in the poor light of the previous evening. Over the last year, Regulus had become almost a perfect mirror image of his elder brother. The same dark hair and grey eyes. The same toned olive skin and tiny cleft in his chin. And of course, the same straight, perfect nose.

The only thing that could've been worse is if he looked like Potter.

I left the bed and dressed hurriedly, feeling the sudden, inexplicable need to get him out of my flat and away from me as quickly as possible. I heated the kettle for tea, sat at the small table near the living room window and waited for him to emerge from the bathroom. He came out moments later, pulling his jumper over wet hair. The only chair in the room was the one I occupied, so he sat on the windowsill and smirked down at me, combing his fingers through his fringe.

"So, when are you going to introduce me?" he drawled lazily.

"Introduce you to whom?"

He scoffed. "The Dark Lord, Severus."

"I'm not," I sneered.

"Of course you are." The detested smirk pulled his mouth into a dangerous sort of leer.

"This isn't the Gobstones Club at Hogwarts," I told him snidely, my eyes narrowing in disdain. "One doesn't simply waltz into the Dark Lord's presence with a gaggle of friends in tow. It is a delicate process of oath and deed that requires the guidance of a willing sponsor. I'm afraid you'll find me quite _un_willing," I added, with the most unpleasant smile I could muster.

"But how touching that you consider me a friend." He shoved himself away from the window and approached me, leaning across the small table to look down into my eyes.

"You _will_ help me become a Death Eater, Severus," he said quietly. "The experience would be so much more gratifying if you'd agree now, rather than after I've had to force you into it."

It was my turn to scoff.

"Your threats have lost their weight. You can't do anything to me now."

"Ah," he said, reaching out to brush a hand over my hair before I was able to jerk away, "how quickly you forget. I'm still a Black. And Blacks still tend to get what they want. It's been so very useful. Unlimited credit everywhere I go, people bending over backwards to make me happy. Why, I imagine that one word from me about an employee could mean the difference between promotion and dismissal from any establishment in Diagon Alley."

I sat in perfect stillness, my rising fury rapidly overtaking the flash of panic that had clamped onto my stomach at his words. I allowed my hatred to build until I was sure it was strong enough to keep my voice steady.

"You would dare threaten a Death Eater?" I asked in a deadly whisper.

"Don't think of it as a threat," he chided, straightening from his slouch over the table. "Think of it as a mutually-beneficial arrangement. If you help me with what I want, then I can use my influence to help you in return."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I said. His ignorance was repulsive, but I welcomed it. It ate away at the inexplicable attraction I held for him.

"That's why I'm relying on you." He turned on a charming smile and slowly edged his way around the table. "I knew how important you'd be, all those years ago. I could've had any Slytherin—hell, any student I wanted. But I wanted you."

I watched him warily as he came closer, but he merely smiled down at me with the same disturbing glint lingering in the depths of his dark grey eyes.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" I spat bitterly.

"You're supposed to return the favor. I can be as useful and important to you as you've been to me, if you'd just give me the chance."

I couldn't deny that what he said was true. As a pureblood from a family such as the Blacks, with more money and connections than a wizard like me could ever hope to achieve, an alliance with him would have some very attractive benefits.

"You understand that the Dark Lord could just as soon kill you as hear anything that you have to say," I muttered quietly.

"Of course."

"And you understand that if that should happen, I will do absolutely nothing to save you."

"Severus, we are Slytherins. That goes without saying."

For a fleeting moment, the feeling that I was about to make a grave mistake burned inside my chest and stayed my tongue. _How can this be a mistake?_ _If the Dark Lord is pleased with Regulus, he'll be pleased with me as well. And if the Dark Lord is displeased, Regulus will die and I'll be rid of him._ I inhaled a slow breath and made my decision.

"I'll report your interest to the Dark Lord at the next summons."

"Good." His smile took on shades of a self-satisfied smirk, and he reached out a hand to touch my hair again. I snatched the hand and yanked, pulling him roughly down so that he had to stoop awkwardly next to me, his face on level with mine.

"Do not mistake this agreement for anything more than what it is. You do not have license to touch me or to ask favors. I will call on you when I have need of you. If you fail me in any way, I may decide to give a very different report to the Dark Lord with the hope that he allows me to kill you myself. In the meantime, however, you will _keep_ _your hands to yourself_." He cringed as I hissed the last sentence into his face and staggered backward when I shoved him forcefully away from me.

I rose quickly from the chair and stalked over to the kettle, which had been whistling softly since he had made his threat against my livelihood. I took my time heating the pot and measuring the tea, fully expecting him to use the opportunity to leave me in peace. But Regulus Black never did anything as I expected.

I didn't hear him come up behind me, which perhaps was the most alarming thing. But despite my loud gasp as his hand slipped over my right hip, I was immediately incensed.

"Did I not just tell you to—" I started angrily and tried to turn, but he cut me off, his mouth a hair's breadth from my ear and his hand gripping more firmly onto my hip.

"You can give me as many directives as you like, Severus," he murmured, and _gods_, the low notes in his voice vibrated through my entire body, making me shiver involuntarily. "But that last is one I can't obey. I've spent this past year waiting for the chance to touch you again and now that I'm here, I intend to touch you whenever I want to." As he spoke, his hand slid from my hip to grasp my burgeoning arousal through my slacks. I tried to stifle the moan that longed to burst from my lips, but wasn't in time to hide it from him.

"Why do you try to fight this? There aren't any professors prowling your rooms, no ghosts to catch us, no classmates to spy on us. I know you want me." He pushed his hand under the waistband of my slacks and began to stroke. I gripped the edge of the countertop, my knuckles turning white. "I know you're…curious." He pressed himself against me from behind and I felt his erection dig into the small of my back.

"_Enough!_"

I struggled away from him, sucking in large breaths of air. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, knowing that my expression would betray to him how much of what he said was true. I turned and made my way into the bedroom, half dreading and half hoping that he would dare to follow me. And of course, he was never one to back down from a dare.


End file.
